Pretend to be sick and leave. Now.
My heart raced for reasons I couldn’t yet explain. “Sarah, what is this?”
Before I could ask anything else, footsteps approached. Richard appeared, irritated that we hadn’t returned to help greet the early guests.
Something in me, instinctive and ancient—the instinct of a mother—told me to believe my daughter. So I did. I played the part, claiming dizziness and stepping away from the event.
It wasn’t until we reached the car that she finally spoke.
“Mom… something’s wrong with Richard. I overheard him last night. He’s planning something that will hurt you.”
She didn’t describe violence. She didn’t describe anything dramatic. What she described was far more common, far more subtle, and far more dangerous to a family’s stability.
She had overheard Richard discussing hidden financial troubles, debts he had never disclosed, and plans to shift assets—assets we shared—without my knowledge. She had gone into his office afterward and found documents showing secret accounts, unusual transfers, and significant sums missing from what should have been our shared finances.
He had been planning to take full control of our home and resources. And he had crafted a story that would make it appear as though I had left abruptly, irrationally, even emotionally unwell. A story that would protect him if I ever questioned the missing funds.
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